It is with sadness that I report the untimely death of one of our compound dogs. JC gave birth to four female puppies on New Year’s Day. We thought it a good omen for the family. JC was a fantastic, natural mum. she tended her little pups with care and we had to force her out to eat, drink and perform her bodily functions.

What a contrast to Lady who had produced an earlier litter and had gladly abandoned all their rearing to JC, the biological aunt and George Bush, a rather bad tempered and reluctant foster father. We had to hand feed Lady’s litter from the second week of their existence. JC though was a different matter. Having already effectively brought up her sister’s puppies, she took to motherhood instantly. The tiny little things were the subject of constant care. If they weren’t being fed they were likely to be being washed. If neither of those two activities were happening, JC would be placing each individual, with use of her mouth and a front paw, into its most comfortable position to sleep right next to her. Nature is a fantastic thing to watch and I would spend ages just watching JC’s careful nuturing. So much so that in the compound the little bitch puppies became known as Jane’s granpicin. I went to London for a short holiday and when I was there JB rang me to tell me the sad news. The wall in front of the compound has been demolished because of the roadworks, JC had wandered out, the puppies now being that bit older had given her the freedom to do so and a car speeding down our road had knocked her down. So our little girls are now orphans. JB came to the rescue and has hand reared them from that moment. They seem to now assume that the sound of his rather large flip flops, flip flopping away, mean that mum is here and they respond instantly to that sound by rushing underneath his feet, wagging their tails and yapping excitedly. They are not too wrong in this because food, water and grooming will inevitably follow.